Before we begin, I want to apologize to Lillian for the names I have called her in recent writings, the reason being that I have recovered yet another memory, of a specific conversation we had in her car, sometime between (apprx.) July 19 and August 5, 1989. I use those two dates because of two very specific occurrences, the first being yet again in Terry's apartment at Concord Square, on a day shortly after the death of the actress Rebecca Shaeffer. We were watching the news, which was saturation coverage of Shaeffer's murder, and the arrest of the goon who killed her. We also watched the movie "Cop" that afternoon, starring James Woods, which Terry had rented from a nearby video store. I have chosen Wednesday July 19th, 1989 as the potential date for this incident. The second one took place on or around Saturday August 5, 1989, when Lilly and I went to see "Lock Up", a truly godawful and ultra violent, sickening prison movie starring Sylvester Stallone. I can't be sure of the theater but I'm working on it.
However, it was on one of these two occasions - either after the "Rebecca Shaeffer" afternoon at Terry's, or after attending the horrible "Lock Up" (which was probably my choice, sorry Lillian), that we had an argument about the state of our relationship, and that argument turned into a conversation in her car, while we were parked in front of 9032. The conversation, which slowly evolved out of the argument (which had been sarcastic and mean spirited) was soul-bearing for Lilly, and revelatory for me, yet also shocking. If she is reading this, she will know what I mean. She will know the conversation I am referring to.
The important thing is, is that it took everything she had, every bit of courage she possessed, to tell me the things that she told me. It also required her to reveal vulnerability, and to allow herself to cry, which, considering the extremely hard shell she had created around herself, was not easy for her to do.
But the other thing is: I've never remembered that conversation until last night. And then I was able to develop it in more detail today.
Lillian will know what I mean. And that is why I am apologizing for calling her names, which I take back.
I'm sorry, Lillian. I just didn't remember that incident, or that conversation. But now I do.
Everything else I've written, about what happened during that time period still stands, one thousand percent. And so does what I've written about everyone else.
With Lilly, it's been a very complicated situation, I will leave it at that. I hope we get the chance, at the very least, to say "hello" to each other one day. ////
I have two movies: "The Cowboy and the Blonde" starring George Montgomery and Mary Beth Hughes, with our pal Fuzzy Knight in support. We love all three. Mary Beth is doing her Cute Indignant Thing in this movie, which is meant to express the sexual dominance/persecution of the pampered Hollywood hottie-of-the-moment (the star who sleeps her way to the top). George Montgomery, so great as always, plays a nationally known Rodeo Cowboy who's made the cover of Life magazine, and has hitched his wagon to the movies. He's been picked up by the studio that holds Mary Beth's contract, and is being used as a pawn to "calm her down" (you get the idea). The producers think he's a rube who can't act, but he's a handsome hunk, thus perfect for Miss Hughes, and when he finds out he's being played, he's ready to take his horse and ride home to the country (the real America). And actually (as usual in this type of film) the cowboy can take or leave the entitled, tantrum throwing, sexually manipulative woman, especially a diva like Mary Beth's character. She uses every trick in her Hollywood Power Play book to try and get him under her (skirt, thumb, take your pick), and what you realize, while watching, is that the MeToo# movement, with all due respect, is just The Sanitized, Public Consumption Version of What Really Goes On Behind the Scenes in the Hollywood Movie Studios, and the "Music" Business, because many of the women in those businesses are complicit in the "program", by which I mean the Casting Couch philosophy. In this movie, Mary Beth Hughes is acting, but not acting. That's how good an actress she was, especially in these kinds of roles. But at least they knew how to do innuendo in those days, without making you feel like you needed to take a shower when the movie was over. And, all cynicism aside, it is a very sweet movie, because they knew how to make pictures in those days.
My other movie was called "The Meanest Gal in Town", another innuendo-filled flick, pre-Code, about a hottie with a slinky figure (hey, I'm just calling it like they intentionally show it) who needs a job during the Depression. She hopes to make it as a "dancer" but ends up as a manicurist. A young Zasu Pitts co-stars, doing her patented-but-always-funny Nerdy Girl thing. The lead actress is a lady named Pert Kelton, whom I'd never heard of but who is very talented. She originated the role of Alice Kramden on "The Jackie Gleason Show", before the character was played (and made famous) by Audrey Meadows on "The Honeymooners". I didn't pay attention to this one enough to review the plot, but it was very good and thus is recommended.
I don't mean to pick on the MeToo# movement, but I've seen The Real Deal, I've seen what truly goes on behind the scenes in Los Angeles, and it's a whole hell of a lot more, and infinitely worse, than Harvey Weinstein chasing some gal around his office and raping her. Or Warren Beatty, or whomever. What MeToo# feels like, to me (and I am not discounting the stories of the ladies in that movement), but it feels to me like a media-controlled, damage-control, male-controlled, version of what really goes on. It's like, "Guys, the truth is leaking out! Better throw 'em a few crumbs. Give 'em Harvey". And the other, politically incorrect truth is that a lot of gals are just fine with the casting couch way of doing things, or - even moreso - the "live action" in-front-of-an-audience way of doing things, in someone's Hollywood Hills (or Northridge) living room, which is what I mean when I say that MeToo# is (or was) small potatoes.
It's like people who watch "The News" and think it's The News. Or even that there can be a thing called The News.
Me, I am thinking tonight about two conversations from 34 years ago, one I had with Pat F., after the showing of "Nightmare on Elm Street 5" on August 11 1989, and one I had with Lillian in her car, just a week or two earlier, in front of my house, when she let her guard down. Both Pat and Lillian told me real things, the kind of things you might tell a person you trusted on the last day of Planet Earth.
I'll take Real Things, statements and testimonies from the heart, over the continuation of a system any day. Especially a system of deceit.
I will always take heart over commerce, over sex, over groupthink, because heart is everlasting.
I have learned a lot about myself in the last 34 years, and what I am, or what I've become, out of necessity, is a Protector. First and foremost I protect myself, because of the array of adversaries I've discovered have "glommed on" to my life. But I like to think I would protect anyone else who would stand by my side, and tell the truth about what has transpired in our lives, because I would like to have just one ally. One would be all I need, because I really don't like bad guys.
I have also just finished Geddy Lee's book and highly recommend it.
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